Poetry Wednesday- Awakening - a poem unfinished
As it says on the tin, an unfinished poem awaiting revision
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Awakening
I feel the sheet beneath my hand
soft, cool, slightly wrinkled
from a night of tossing and turning.
The tips of my fingers are curled
into my palm and I try to unfurl them.
They ache as they move;
knuckles stinging,
ligaments creaking.
I pull them back and
squeeze ragged nails into my flesh,
half moon indents in soft muscle.
Trying again I flinch but persevere.
Slow and painful I reach out and close,
reach out and close, reach out and close.
the burn inside the knuckle slowly subsides,
the skin loosens, movement quickens.
The pain isn't gone but my hand moves.
It will do.
Unfinished 2024At some point I wrote this in my head, in the middle of the night. Something that happens fairly often. Except what I wrote then was much, much better. More concise and precise. And yet again I didn’t pick up my notepad and scribble it down. And of course in the morning I only had snatches that I tried to fill in. As you can see from the date that was 2 months ago and I’ve been trying to ‘fix’ it ever since, and failed.
The other day my middle child (adult) mentioned that my poems read like prose. They didn’t mean it in any particular way but it did get me thinking and wondering if that was good or bad? So I think I will rewrite this one a fair bit and try to work it more poetically, though I’m not exactly sure what that means. You may notice I’m not terribly into rhyme and meter.
So this week you get an unfinished piece, awaiting revision.
Please click the heart button if you like this, share if you would like, and I would love a comment, especially on the difference between prose, poetry, poetic prose, etc.
3 Red Cabbage Heads is a free and reader supported publication. Subscribe now to support me, you can upgrade to a paid subscription, it doesn’t give you any more access to my words, but a handwritten note and a small gift, probably completely useless, are yours. My words are free.
Lovely to read this very precisely observed poem. Lovely bathetic close, too. 🙂
It does not feel unfinished to me: “It will do.” It ends on a note of acceptance, and the day begins.
I find the poem sometimes refuses to be tinkered with…much as I might prefer it to become More. If I go back some time later, I can see it more clearly - how do you feel about it now?